The Sand Upon My Lips
by Shaharra
Summary: Harry Potter disappeared three years after he was delivered to the Dursleys. Almost twenty years later, almost no one believes that the Boy-Who-Lived will ever be found. But everyone knows that things which are lost sometimes turn up unexpectedly.
1. Fortuitous Events and Fate's Playthings

AN: I need a break from Death Note. I have though about (obsessed over) nothing else for almost an entire year. For the sake of my sanity, I need a breather. The Night will be continued at a later date. For now, I'm playing around with Harry Potter.

Warnings: Slash, AU, Ooc-ness... I am not as familiar with this fandom as I am with Death Note, so there is a good chance that I will maul it with my inexperiance.

Fortuitous Events and Fate's Playthings.

Severus Snape was not a very nice man. He knew this, and was perfectly content being a not very nice man. He hated children, frequently cut up puppies and kitties and threw them into his potions, drank his coffee black with no sugar, and had a sense of smug superiority when it came to... basically everything.

But, even he had to admit it would have been pretty inconsiderate to laugh hysterically when the professors discovered, ten years after the destruction of the Dark Lord, that Harry Potter was missing.

The Boy-Who-Lived had vanished.

The Golden boy was MIA.

It was too good to be true. The Fates, cruel bitches they may be, were finally cutting him some slack! He would not have to teach that...that... cretin!

Severus gave a real smile and took a drink from his bitter coffee as the other professors at the start of the year meeting clamored in various stages of shock and disbelief.

"But Albus! How can this be?" The flea-ridden Minerva McGonagall shrieked.

"I simply can not say," the old man murmured.

Several other professors shouted and demanded explanations. Severus merely settled back into his chair with a happy sigh.

"Please let me explain all that I know," Albus demanded, and the good little children... other professors quieted.

"I delivered the young Harry Potter into his aunt and uncle's keep the night his parents were killed, as you all know. I felt certain that he would be well taken care of. It appears that I was... incorrect in that assumption."

Severus snorted, then looked appropriately apologetic when several sets of eyes glared in his direction. "My apologies. Please continue, Albus."

The old man cleared his throat before continuing. "The Dursleys kept Harry in their care for..." He adjusted his half-moon spectacles and glanced down at a piece of parchment in his hand. "Three years. Then, by all accounts, they took him to an orphanage."

Several voice were raised in vehement protest. Severus calmly took another drink of coffee.

"Yes, it is horrible indeed. Records from that particular orphanage show that Harry stayed there for another four months before he was finally adopted out. That is all we know."

Poppy Pomfrey leaned forward in her chair. "Can't you contact the orphanage and request the information pertaining to Mr. Potter?"

"We have already attempted that approach. It would seem that a fire recently destroyed that building and all of the documents in it. Even if Harry's papers hadn't been destroyed, we were told that the information was confidential and we were not allowed to be privy to it."

McGonagall gasped, probably on a hairball. "You mean... There is no way for us to locate the boy?"

Albus's eyes held a sad twinkle in them. "We can try to find some sort of document trail under Harry's name, but if he was adopted then his family name would have been changed. Since we do not know what it was changed to..."

The assembled professors all looked suitably despondent.

Sybil Trelawney perked up slightly. "Can the Ministry not track his magical signature?"

Rubeus Hagrid had a look of mingled sorrow and pride. " 'Arry's got himself a good mite of power. 'Asn't the Minis'ry got problems trackin' powerful witches an' wizards, Albus?" Hagrid was not a professor, but was allowed to participate in these meetings because he was a "valued member of the faculty." Severus didn't buy this for a minute. Filch wasn't invited to the meetings. It was all because of that disgustingly soft Albus... The old, Gryffindor loving coot.

"You are unfortunately correct, Rubeus. The Ministry has not been able to track Harry's signature since that unfortunate night at Godric's Hallow..."

Severus narrowed his eyes. Could he dare to hope...? "What are you trying to say, Albus?"

Albus shook his head. "We will continue searching... but it is highly unlikely that we will ever find Harry Potter."

Severus Snape was not a very nice. Upon hearing this news, he could have whooped and hollered in victory and joy just like those disgusting children he taught.

Needless to say, he was having a pretty good day.


	2. London Whiskey and Lonelyhearts

AN: Chapter One is here! I've had most of this written for a while, but I needed to fine tune it before I was able to post it. I also feel the need to beg my readers' indulgences when it comes to updating. I don't have ready access to internet. It's a commodity that I can't afford at the moment. Being self sufficient and living on your own sure is a drag. I will update, eventually, but I can not promise it will be in a timely fashion. Expect at least two weeks before I update. Perhaps more. Most likely more.

Spoilers/Warnings: AU, Ooc-ness, slash, cliches... Mostly a whole lot of fluffy, pointless romance. I'm not taking this story very seriously, and I encourage any readers to treat it with the same flippancy.

Also, please note that this is somewhat AU. I am in the Harry Potter universe, but I am mostly disregarding... pretty much all of the books!

London Whiskey and Lonely-hearts.

Harry Kiernan, more commonly called Kitten (though he had for years tried to get people to cut the Kitten crap out, but eventually gave up and just accepted his nickname,) decided that he really didn't like London very much.

Simply put, it rained too much. He peeled a lock of his wet hair off of his cheek and looked out the window of his cab. He didn't mind a little rain, but this days-on-end shit needed to quit. It had been pouring for the past three days and four nights, and Kitten was getting tired of it.

Other than that, he really couldn't complain about London. It was big enough to lose himself in, and he could wander a different street every day for three years and not discover everything there was to know about the sprawling city. He could eat at a different cafe every night. There were plenty of cozy little boutiques, book stores, and even bars. When he first moved here, he couldn't help but grin. He would never get bored in a place like London.

That was only eight months ago.

He had moved to London on a whim. He had been going to school at Oxford. His parents had wanted only the best for him, but he was having none of it. What he really wanted was to _live._ He didn't want to waste anymore time in school. He liked school, it was true. It appealed to his curious nature, the very same nature which earned him his nickname. ("You're as curious as a wee kitten, lad," his father had said fondly before ruffling his hair. "But kittens have nine lives, and you only one. A bit of caution could do you some good.") But schooling wasn't what he really wanted.

He just wanted to live for a while. He didn't want to think about the past, or the future. He just wanted to take it step by step and see what was coming for him.

"Here's fine," he murmured softly to the cab driver, and was promptly delivered into the rain, minus fifteen pounds. He stood in front of the shabby looking building for only a brief moment, then turned his coat collar up around his ears and made his way into the lounge.

Kitten shook his head, his hair glistening from the rain. He worked an eight to three shift at this little bar and lounge. He was a bartender, and he actually enjoyed his work very much. Every once and a while there was some riffraff or another causing trouble, but it was never very serious. The bouncer, a large man in his mid-forties named Liam, made sure all of the customers stayed in line.

Speaking of Liam, there he was, by the door. Kitten nodded to him as he walked passed and took his place behind the bar. He took off his soggy jacket and laid it underneath the counter before smoothing his slightly rumpled outfit. He was wearing a black t-shirt and a pair of old, form-fitting jeans tucked firmly into his scuffed boots. An antique rosary hung down onto his chest, and a collar was fixed around his neck. His usual attire.

He leaned his elbows against the shiny counter and surveyed the room. There were only a few people in the place, but it would pick up soon enough. He smiled slightly and prepared to make the best of the night.

XoXoX

Severus Snape really wasn't sure why he was spending his night in a bar in the middle of London. It was the summer, so he didn't have classes or students to worry about, but it was still unlike him to spend his time in such a place. It was almost a personal rule of his; he would avoid menial places such as this bar. They were beneath him.

Severus had made an exception this night, however, because he felt the need to get utterly smashed.

The past year at Hogwarts had been... There were no words to describe. It was safe to say that it had been rough, and had driven him completely out of the magical world for the summer. He needed a break. He was tired, and crankier than usual, and was well on his way to burning out.

Which is why he had found himself, on the first night of his beautiful summer vacation, in a bar in muggle London. A perfect place to unwind with impunity.

A perfect place to get utterly smashed.

If he were being perfectly honest with himself, though, he would admit that he was lonely. He wanted... something. Perhaps not "happily ever after, mushy-gushy romance" crap, but something. Someone to talk to, or at the very least, a place where he could surround himself with people and forget how utterly alone he was.

It would be a perfect time to mention that Severus Snape was never one to be perfectly honest. Therefore, he told himself he was in this bar to get utterly smashed because of those ridiculous brats he taught all year round.

Yes indeed.

He sat himself down at the bar, and waited impatiently for some service. He rested his elbow on the shiny surface, and his chin in his palm, and gazed out at the gathered people. It was rather quiet, he decided, but he figured that it would pick up soon. It was only eight at night, after all. People generally didn't start drinking this early. That is, unless they were desperate for something.

Severus didn't like the thought that he was desperate, so he put it from his mind. Instead he focused on the people surrounding him.

The customers in the bar were varied in appearance. There were a few women there; young and off-puttingly friendly. Mostly there were men. A few were wearing business suits and sipping at martinis. The rest were dressed in common clothing, chugging down beer.

He almost felt over-dressed, with his button up shirts and slacks, but he wasn't about to show it. Or even fret over it. These muggles were beneath him and not worthy of his consideration.

"Can I get you something?" A soft voice queried. Sharp black eyes jerked to the young man behind the counter. The...beautiful young man behind the counter.

He had rather long black hair, glistening and wet. He must have been outside not long ago, Severus thought as he watched a trail of rain water flow down the side of his neck. He had stunning viridian eyes behind a pair of rimless glasses. They were fringed in thick lashes which brushed against his sun-kissed cheeks. Rosy lips curled into a half smile.

He was a good deal shorter than Severus, and wearing a casual black t-shirt and dark pair of jeans. An antique looking rosary hung onto his chest, and a collar adorned his slender neck. He was slightly gothic and rebellious looking, with his outrageous jewelry and piercings in his left ear.

He was a very appealing sight. The potions master sat, stunned by the sight before.

The young man's smile grew even more. "Can I get you something?" He repeated, and Severus's mind snapped back to the present.

"Whiskey," Severus grunted, and the young man complied.

He moved about behind the counter, before setting a small glass full of ice in front of him and filled it to the brim with the amber liquid. "Rough times, huh?"

The potions master felt his eyes narrowing. "What makes you say that?"

The young man just kept on smiling, his voice low and soothing. "It's a little early to be hitting such a strong drink. But I admit, it is necessary at times."

"Humph." Severus picked up the glass and took a drink, tensing briefly as the liquid burned his throat. "What would you know of hard times? You look seventeen."

He laughed, a sultry sound low in his throat, and leaned his arms against the counter of the bar. "Twenty-three, actually, and anyone can suffer, regardless of their age." He rested his chin in both of his hands. "Pain doesn't discriminate."

"I hope you aren't looking for me to applaud you on your seemingly wise answers," Severus growled, and the young man shook his head.

"Just striking up a conversation, but if you're looking for some solitude..." He straightened from his position, and had the audacity to wink at the potions master.

Severus attempted to conjure up feelings of outrage and failed miserably. The young man was rather charming, and slightly interesting to speak with. There were no other customers lined up at the bar, waiting to be served some drink or another, so he figured he could chat with the lovely bartender. He didn't feel guilty about commandeering his attention.

"I don't mind a bit of small talk," he said simply.

The cheeky brat grinned at him. "I knew you wouldn't. That's why you're sitting here at the bar instead of in some corner. People who want to talk sit here."

Severus "harrumphed" and finished his drink instead of acknowledging the young man's observations. He wouldn't admit it, but he was rather embarrassed that the man could read him so easily. His time as a spy and a Death Eater should have left him with more than adequate shields around himself. It was unnerving that this muggle could see through so many of them.

He also wouldn't admit that it was somewhat exhilarating. It was...nice to be seen. What a nauseating thought. Next he would be wondering what it would be like to have someone he could confide in. That just wouldn't do. The pretty muggle in front of him, who continued to smile softly at him with his head cocked slightly to one side, was wrecking havoc on him. He was distracting, and he reminded Severus of how long it had been since he had physical contact with another, and how none of those men from his past were half as stunning as the creature with shining viridian eyes, silky hair, and outlandishly defiant clothing.

Simply put, he made Severus want, which could be very dangerous indeed.

Luckily for him, a group of less-than sober men made their way to the bar, yelling for various drinks. The young man turned to attend to them, and Severus took the resulting clamor and used it to make a tactical retreat from the building.

The rain continued to fall. He turned his face towards the sky and closed his eyes, letting the water calm his mind and body.

It was dangerous to want. It could be said, though, that Severus was no coward, and he took note of the building (so he could find it at a later date) before apparating with a crack.


	3. Evincing Attractions

AN: Here's another installment to my little series. Actually, this happens to be the longest story I've ever planned on writing. The Night was only ever meant to be about ten chapters long, but I have no clue how long this one will be. As long as it takes to say everything I need to say, I suppose. This chapter is kind of a filler. I need it to advance the plot, but I don't really like it. It seems long, slow, and boring to me, but I felt I needed to have some sort of emotional growth in here. On the upside, I have a lot of this story written already! Too bad nothing is consecutive. I can't post it yet. I'm jumping all over the place while writing this thing!

Also, thank you to Moon Crescent Neko who informed me that England uses pounds, not euros. That's such a silly mistake, because I knew that, but it has been changed in the previous chapter to the correct form of money. Grumble, grumble, grumble.

Warnings: See chapters one and two, then add silliness onto that list.

Evincing Attractions.

Severus didn't like to think that he had run away from the young man that night. He felt that he needed a chance to think, regroup, and learn more. He was no Gryffindor; he wasn't about to rush into anything without putting some thought into it. When he felt an attraction to the young man, and there was no denying it, he decided he needed to get out of that place straight away.

The young man was simply stunning. Severus hadn't felt so inexplicably and strongly attracted to anyone since he had met Lily Evans. The young man (Severus cursed himself for not asking the man his name) looked a bit like Lily, now that he thought about it. He had the same slender build, face structure, and he had her eyes. Well, not quite. Hers had been a pure emerald color, while his had just a hint of blue in them. He was a little smaller than her, too. Pixie-like, almost.

He looked just enough like her that Severus felt a brief wave of nostalgia, but he was also different. Different enough that Severus knew he didn't want him just because he reminded him of a woman who was long dead. Which was good.

There was an attraction there, at least on Severus' part. Since he hadn't felt anything for anyone other than disdain for a very long time he felt the urge to explore this new possibility. That was how he found himself standing outside that same little bar nine days later.

He didn't want to seem too eager.

Not that the young man would even remember him. He probably saw many strange, dark men in his line of work.

Severus sighed, and thought about turning around and apparating back to his flat on the other side of the city. This whole thing was pointless. The young man would look at him and there would be no recollection in his pretty eyes. Or, worse, he would remember that crazy man who had acted like an idiot and a prig.

They were thoughts that he had entertained for several days, and Severus didn't like the insecure feeling they left in him. He wasn't some stupid adolescent approaching his first crush. He was a grown a man. He was Severus Snape, for Merlin's sake!

He took a deep breath, and walked into the building.

He was Severus Snape, after all. He wasn't scared.

XoXoX

Kitten really wasn't scheduled to work that night. He had just dropped in to pick up his pay check when Jared, one of his fellow bartenders, grabbed his arm and pulled him behind the counter.

"Please, Kitten," the older man pleaded with him. "I know you're not on, but Trace called and said something came up and she couldn't make it in for another hour, and this place is hopping." Jared glanced around the room, and Kitten followed his gaze.

It really was busy, and since Tracy wasn't coming in for a while, Jared would be working alone until then.

Kitten smiled. "Don't worry about it. I didn't have any plans tonight, anyway."

Jared grinned back at him. "I owe you, man."

"I'll think of some way you can pay me back." Kitten winked at him, and got to work.

As he mixed up a couple of screwdrivers for a group of giggling women, he thought back to that night a little over a week ago. More specifically, he thought of that man.

He had been nervous and obviously unhappy. His dark eyes glared at everyone in the room, and they only grew angrier if someone came near him. He hadn't been comfortable, and Kitten still wondered about why he was even in a bar when he hadn't really wanted to be. Something had been troubling that man, and Kitten wanted to cheer him up. That was half of his job, anyway. Keeping things fun and light for everyone.

It hadn't hurt that the man had messy, if slightly greasy hair, broad shoulders, a five o'clock shadow, and an aura which screamed, "I'm sexy! I'm dangerous!"

Kitten had a soft spot for rough and dangerous men.

His mother was constantly harping him about his taste in men. "Why can't you settle down with a nice, young man," was her favorite saying, and it annoyed him. She also had the tendency to attempt to set him up on dates with men she approved of. He had complied, and went out with a few of them, but they were always so dull! He loved her for wanting to see him happy, but he wanted a man who was rough around the edges. One with a past, and one who wouldn't mind the fact that he, himself, had his own.

Clean, polished men didn't like it when they figured out he had his own eccentricities. Which may be a little stereotypical on his part, but when it came down to it, he just liked his bad boys!

"Here you go, ladies," he said, and pushed the drinks towards the women. They took them, and proceeded to giggle some more, before whispering to each other about him.

"He's so cute!"

"Kind of geeky, with those glasses."

"He's got such pretty hair! I'm jealous."

"Gay. Cuties like that are always gay or taken."

The women didn't realize that they weren't whispering quietly enough and that he could hear everything they said. He just smiled and let them chatter about him.

He picked up a beer glass, and was about to wipe it down when another voice broke through the slightly shrill voices of the admiring women.

"Whiskey, please."

He felt shivers run down his spine. He turned his head, and there he was. Mystery man. Looking just as yummy as he had the first time.

Kitten smiled and turned towards the man. "You sure you just want whiskey? Why not try something new?" _Like me_, his mind supplied, but he wasn't going to openly hit on the man. He knew from previous experiences that he couldn't be so open about attractions he felt to the men who came up to the bar. Some of them were offended if they thought they were being hit on.

He didn't want to scare mystery man away again. And he figured he had scared him away that first night, since he had left so quickly.

The man sat down on one of the empty stools and rested his elbows against the counter. His hair was nicer looking tonight, Kitten noticed. "Something new," he mused. "I wouldn't know what to try."

Kitten tilted his head to one side. "Are you willing to trust me?"

The man narrowed his eyes, as if he was considering. He had nice eyes. They were black, almost colorless. From where he was standing, Kitten couldn't make out the iris from the pupil. He had nice lips, too. Not big and pouty like his own, but firm. Those lips were moving, and he had to focus on the words the man was saying.

"I suppose I could."

Kitten nodded and set to mixing the man a drink. He could be willing to flirt, he decided. He didn't seem to be to put off this time, and Kitten resolved to be flirty, but not pushy. He didn't want the man to run away.

He grabbed a small lemon and a couple of different liquors and dashed them all into a shaker before pouring them into a small glass filled with ice. He topped the concoction with a cherry, and almost proudly set it in front of the man.

The man stared at the drink for a moment before taking a small drink. "It's not bad," he declared.

"That's a Fallen Angel(1)," Kitten supplied.

"You just made me the most expensive drink you could think of, didn't you?"

"Maybe." He lowered his voice into a husky purr. "But that one's on the house."

The man raised one of his eyebrows. "How generous of you. I'm Severus."

"Kitten. Nice to meet you."

XoXoX

The pretty young man was flirting with him. Severus wasn't certain if he was being honest, or if he was just doing his job, but it was a start either way.

He took another drink of his Fallen Angel to hide the smirk that was threatening to blossom on his face. He had introduced himself, and the young man had given him his name in return.

Well, his nickname at least. Kitten. No self-respecting parent would name their son Kitten, but he would admit that it fit the young man. It matched with the way he tilted his head and how his eyes gleamed in curiosity.

Severus wondered if Kitten would be as curious in other ways.

"So what brings you back, Mr. Grumpy Gills?"

Grumpy gills? "You remember me." It sent a spill of victorious pleasure through him. He had remembered him. Whether in a good way or not, it was a start.

"Well, yeah.. I've never seen anyone sitting here who looked like they wanted to be somewhere else, only he couldn't think of anywhere better to be."

That described how he was feeling pretty accurately. Perceptive brat. Severus was liking him more and more the longer he spoke to him. "I wasn't having the best of days."

"I remember."

Just then, a woman with spiky brown hair walked behind the counter of the bar. She made her way towards Kitten and touched his arm to get his attention. The green-eyed man jumped slightly before turning to her.

"Hey, Kit, thanks for covering for me! Mena was fussing up and I couldn't get her to the sitter."

"No problem, Tracy. I don't mind."

"I got it from here. Can I get you something else?" She asked him, and Severus shook his head sharply. He tried to hide his disappointment. He had been making progress with Kitten, but the young man was done working for the night. He watched him collect his coat. Well, damn.

He finished his drink, and brooded. Might as well go home now.

He was glaring at the shiny countertop when Kitten slid onto the stool next to him. "Something up?"

Severus was surprised, pleasantly so, to find that Kitten was still interested in talking to him, but he was feeling insecure again, and whenever he felt insecure he glared. It was a defensive reflex.

Kitten flinched back slightly when Severus turned his gaze onto him. "I don't," he stammered. "I'm sorry. I don't want to be a pain. If you want to be left alone..." He trailed off, and hopped off of the stool.

Severus reached out and grabbed his shoulder. "Don't go."

"Really, I don't want to bother you." He shrugged, the motion causing Severus' hand to fall off. "I was going to head out, anyway."

Severus hesitated for a brief moment, before asking, "May I ask where?"

Kitten shrugged again. "No where important." He scuffed the toe of his boot against the floor. "Just thinking about catching a coffee before I headed home."

The Potions Master pressed his luck. "Would you mind if I escorted you?"

And wonders of wonders, Kitten smiled his pretty smile, and said he would enjoy that.

1. This is actually a drink. I didn't make it up! Though I don't know if you could walk into a bar and order it without getting an uncomprehending look in return. I got it out of my Old Mr. Boston De Luxe Official Bartender's Guide (yeah, it's really called that), but that book is at least fifty years old. So I don't know if that drink is still in style or not. On the off chance anyone wants to try it... if anyone reading this is even old enough to drink... here's the recipe.

Fallen Angel Cocktail.

Juice of one lemon or one-half lime.

One and one-half ounces Old Mr. Boston Dry Gin

One dash of Bitters

One-half teaspoon Old Mr. Boston Crème de Menthe

Shake well with cracked ice and strain into three ounce cocktail glass. Serve with a cherry.


	4. Reminiscences of Forgiveness

AN: Ho! What is this? An update two days in a row? Oh yes! Believe your eyes, my lovely readers. This isn't so much of an update; it's more like an interlude. Don't skim right through it, though! There are some hints here about Harry's character which will become important later on.

Reminiscences of Forgiveness.

Kitten was fifteen the first time he discovered that the world could be cruel.

He had no problems with life up till that point. He had two wonderful, loving parents. He knew they weren't his birth parents, but he didn't suffer when they told him like so many adopted children do. They were his _parents._ His father taught him to hold his head high and face the world with open arms. His mother taught him how to love sincerely. The fact that they hadn't given birth to him didn't change anything. He had no desire to track down his birth parents. He didn't hate them; he didn't think of them at all. They were abstract figures in his mind. They gave birth to him, but they hadn't given him anything else, so they weren't that important in the scheme of things.

There were no major problems for him. Everything was fairly picturesque. Even being gay hadn't changed that.

He had always known that he was gay. It wasn't something that he discovered over a long period of time. It wasn't a revelation. It simply had always been. His parents knew, too, even though he had never confided in them. They wouldn't have been ashamed of him; they loved him. Being gay didn't change that, wouldn't change that, so he had no reason to turn it into a big conversation with them. They knew, he knew, and life went on as it always had.

The rest of the world wasn't quite as accepting or as forgiving as his parents.

The incident happened one bright and sunny afternoon. It was the weekend, and Kitten went to the market to buy some tomatoes for his mom. There was a skip in his step as he made his way down the streets. His mom was making egg plant parmesan for supper that night, and he was looking forward to it.

A couple of his classmates stepped out of a store in front of him, but he didn't pay any attention to them. There were three of them; some of the burly boys that liked to cause trouble for others. Kitten had faced their taunts regularly at school, but he wasn't about to tangle with them if he could help it. He kept his eyes straight forward, kept his pace even, and did his best to avoid grabbing their attention.

He wasn't successful.

One of them glanced his way and elbowed his buddy. "Hey, look. It's that little fag."

The other two snickered coldly. The first one, the alpha dog of the group, fell into step beside Kitten. "Where you off to? Got a date, fag?"

Kitten ignored him. It was a mistake, he realized later. Ignoring the bulky boy just pissed him off, and Kitten paid for it.

The events were blurry for him. He ended up in an alley, behind a dumpster. Two of the boys held him down, while the first one took a broken piece of glass to his face. He knew he screamed when they carved the word "fag" into his forehead, using the odd lightning-bolt scar he already have as a jagged "f."

They left him there once they had finished with him, and he laid there until the sun set, then he stumbled to his feet and dragged himself home.

His parents took him to the hospital, and there they called the police to report the assault. He answered questions for the two officers that came to interview him, but he didn't say who had carved up his forehead. He didn't speak their names.

He never did.

XoXoX

Kitten was left with a rather hideous scar on his forehead, but his hair had always been long and it covered the foul word.

His parents looked into plastic surgery to remove it, but as fate would have it, the word didn't last very long.

Not two months after the incident, as it was called in his mind, his father grew very ill.

In truth, his father had been very ill for a long time. He had one of those degenerate diseases. He often took turns for the worse, but he always got better. This time didn't seem any different.

Kitten and his mother drug Mr. Kiernan to the hospital only to have him released a few days later. Everything seemed fine, but not eight days after he left the hospital, Kitten's father was dead.

XoXoX

Two months later, his mother found him in the bathroom, curled up on the cold linoleum. He held a razor blade in one hand, and the other was fisted by his mouth as he sobbed. Blood oozed down the side of his face.

Where the word had previously been, there now was only an angry wound bleeding freely down her baby's face.

"Kitten! Harry!" she cried while she flung herself at him. She grabbed a towel off the sink and pressed it to his forehead. "What have you done?"

Kitten gulped down a few mouthfuls of air and choked on his words. "It's all my fault," he wailed.

"What are you talking about? Kitten, why?" She was crying now.

"God's punishing me for being such a freak! If I had been normal, then Dad..." His eyes sought out her own. "It's all my fault!"

"Honey..." His mother gripped his chin, keeping the towel pressed to his wound. "It is not your fault."

"It is... God is punishing me. He hates what I am."

"No! You listen to me, Harry. God does not hate you, and God did not take Dad away because you were bad."

Kitten's eyes held nothing but sorrow and disbelief at her words, so she hugged him to herself. "God loves you. He will forgive anything you do, you hear me? Anything! And if he doesn't, then he doesn't deserver _your_ love!" She pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "Don't you ever feel ashamed, honey. Don't let anyone make you feel that."

"Mom." He clung to her as if she would disappear before his very eyes. "I miss him!"

"I miss him too..."

XoXoX

Kitten started wearing his grandmother's rosary after that. If he held his head with pride, then even he could be forgiven, He, in turn, could forgive others.


	5. Atypical Scars and Connections

AN: Another chapter! I'm rather proud of myself for keeping up with this. Usually, most of my longer stories don't go anywhere. Most of them I don't even post, because I can't ever get past the first two chapters or so. This is a new record for me! I must admit, though, I've had some reservations about this one. I kept thinking to myself, "Gosh, I'm moving too fast. They like each other too much too soon. It all just sounds terribly fake." But then I got to thinking about it. Some relationships take a long time to develop; some of them don't, however. Don't some people feel instant connections to others? I know I have. I've met certain people, and my feelings, romantic or platonic, develop almost immediately. Some people just connect with each other fast. So, having justified Severus and Harry's relationship to myself, I felt free to continue with this.

Thank you to everyone who has read this silly thing and told me to keep up the work! I literally swooned after reading all of your wonderful words! I'd like to ask my readers/reviewers not to be shy, though. Tell me if it doesn't make sense. Criticize my spelling and grammar, or my flow. I'd love to hear what you think!

As to whether or not Voldemort will be included... Eh. I dunno. I'm thinking on him for now.

This chapter will hopefully answer anyone's questions about Harry's Infamous scar.

Atypical Scars and Connections

It was a fairly awkward walk. The night was cool and brisk, but not unpleasantly so. Kitten had his hands stuffed firmly in the pockets of his jeans. The other man, Severus, didn't seem to notice any chill in the air and walked with his hands swinging by his sides. They both wore light jackets, and the viridian-eyed man noticed that his companions was a lot nicer than his. The man's clothes were nicely cut and tailored, made out of fine materials. The man obviously had at least some money.

He couldn't help but wonder what this rugged, older man could see in him.

They walked shoulder to shoulder, not touching, but close enough that he could feel the heat rolling off of the other man. It was comfortable, and a little intimate when he considered it. They walked as if they were old friends, secure in each other's presence.

The silence was still awkward, though.

It seemed like neither man could find the right words to say to each other. Kitten opened his mouth several times to start a conversation, but the words always died on his tongue. He was feeling a little insecure; this was practically a date, and he didn't want to ruin it by acting like a complete loon.

The oppressive silence lasted until they were both sitting at a small table in the coffee shop Kitten liked to frequent. They were both nursing cups between their hands, Kitten's a latte while Severus took just a plain cup of black coffee. Kitten had offered to pay for their coffees, and Severus had agreed, which raised his estimation of the older man. He was secure enough, confidant enough that he could allow another man to pay for him.

Severus finally broke the heavy atmosphere. "Are you originally from London?"

He shook his head. "Not really. My parents actually lived in Inverness, Scotland for most of my life. Mum moved here about four years ago, while I was going to school at Oxford. I came here about eight months ago. What about you?"

"I'm originally from an industrial part of northern England. I still keep a residence there, but I'm away at work for most of the year."

"What do you do?" Kitten blew the steam away from his cup before sipping at the warm liquid.

"I'm a professor."

"That's wicked. Where do you teach at?"

Severus shrugged one shoulder gracefully. "It's a small boarding school. Not very well know. I doubt you would have heard of it."

"Fair enough," he grinned. "What are you doing in London, then?"

"It's the summer holidays. I decided to take a break from... everything. Relocate for a while before I have to go back to work."

"I hear you. A breather. It's kind of why I'm here, too." Kitten leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over his stomach.

Severus leaned one elbow against the table, and rested his chin in his palm. Dark eyes scanned the occupants of the coffee shop, but it was relatively quiet. It was getting late, after all, and most people were either in bars or home in bed. "You mentioned before that your mother moved here a few years back. What about your father?"

"He died," Kitten said quietly. "When I was fifteen."

"I'm sorry."

XoXoX

The young man shrugged, and Severus got the feeling that the subject wasn't welcome. He let it drop.

"Did you get a degree from Oxford?"

He shook his head. "No, I dropped out." At Severus' questioning look, he elaborated. "I liked school, don't get me wrong. But I don't really know what I want out of life, and I certainly wasn't figuring it out by sitting in some classroom or another day after day. I might go back eventually, but for now I'm happy just working."

"I see." Severus did see. He sometimes felt the same way, and couldn't help but wonder why he had stayed at Hogwarts for so long, even after the fall of the Dark Lord. He could have gone somewhere else; his skills in Potions, among other subjects, would allow him to find some other job. Why had he stayed at Hogwarts?

"And, anyway. There's stuff to see, and my life to live. I'd rather enjoy myself for now. I have time to get a degree later on."

"You're happy working at that bar?"

"For now. It suits me pretty well." The young man grinned at him. "It's laid back."

Laid back. It did fit the young man. He seemed rather carefree. Severus let his eyes travel over his face, now that they were in a place which had better lighting, not to mention less cigarette smoke, than the bar had. He was even more strikingly beautiful than Severus had originally believed, but not without his flaws. There was a smattering of delicate freckles across his cheeks and nose, and possibly some scarring along the side of his face.

He watched the young man brush some of his hair behind his left ear, and Severus confirmed that he did have a scar on his face. It was a brutal looking mesh of pale scar tissue extending from above his eyebrow down his temple to the top of his cheek. Severus leaned forward slightly and noticed several thin stripes extending from the old wound. It looked like... a razor. One of the muggle razors with multiple blades.

Had someone cut up Kitten's face?

Severus realized he had been too noticeable in his observations, because Kitten had smoothed the hair over his face again, hiding the scars from his sight. His shoulders were stiff, and the slant of his chin was defensive.

"I had an accident years ago," was all he said, and Severus knew he was lying. The wound was brutal and unnatural. Someone had vented their frustrations and hatred out on this man.

Rather than repulsing him, as Kitten seemed to think, it endeared him to Severus, who bore his own scars, both hidden and visible.

In a move that was so unlike himself, Severus reached over and brushed the soft hair away from the scar, allowing his fingers to linger on the jagged skin. "Everyone has their scars," was what his mouth said, though he knew his eyes, if Kitten cared to read them, would show his understanding. Not of the situation in specific, but of the pain the world may have inflicted on him.

He didn't know what Kitten had gone through, but he felt a kindred spirit in him. He felt connected to him, and it was ridiculous, absolutely foolish since this was only the second time he had spoken with the man. It was so atypical for him, and he didn't know what he was doing.

And, instead of thinking about it, he told himself just to go with it.

XoXoX

Warm fingers were pressed against his scars, his sign of weakness and shame. Severus was staring into his eyes with an intense, unreadable expression. Not entirely unreadable, he corrected to himself. There was understanding there, but all of the other emotions flickering through those eyes of coal were too intense for him to comprehend.

Maybe so intense that Severus himself didn't understand them.

Kitten got the impression that showing emotions was difficult for the older man, and he felt warmed for the fact that he was being so open and expressive, if only in this one moment of time.

And suddenly, Kitten was very afraid. He wanted to pull back and close himself off from this man, because surely that would be easier than telling him about the scars. He wasn't ready to explain about his weakness, and his momentary plunge into depression and self-pity. He didn't want to explain about his rosary, not to someone he had only just met. He would understand, Kitten was sure of it, but he might find it pathetic, and more than anything he wanted Severus to accept him.

He was afraid of the sudden swelling of trust he felt for this man. He was unsure of himself.

Severus' long fingers were still resting on his temple, and he shook them off with a quick jerk of his head. The dark man leaned back, his eyes veiled. Kitten sensed a spark of hurt from him, but he couldn't find the words to apologize for it. Instead, he offered him a small smile, and he seemed to understand and acknowledged it with a nod.

They might feel an attraction for each other, but they weren't going to indulge the other with their stories yet.

Both of their coffees, barely touched, had gone cold, but his face was hot from where the older man's fingers had come into contact with his skin. He swallowed and lowered his head, looking at the other man through his eyelashes.

"Hey," he whispered. "Do you think, maybe..." He broke off, cleared his throat, and tried again. "Do you want to get out of here?"

"And go where?" It wasn't a no, which gave him a surge of confidence.

"My place? It's not too far from here."

Severus smirked at him. "You're asking me back to your place."

Kitten flushed. "I didn't mean for sex. I mean, we could, if you wanted. Have sex, that is. But we could have... coffee?"

The smirk widened. "We have coffee here."

"Okay, maybe something stronger than coffee," he grouched.

"We could have had something stronger than coffee at the bar."

"Well fine. Forget it." The entire exchange had left him flustered and embarrassed, and he couldn't believe he had asked Severus to go to his place in the first place. What had he been thinking? He was such an idiot, and now the other man saw that and was teasing him mercilessly before he decided whether or not he wanted to walk out right now. Which he probably would. Gah!

XoXoX

Wasn't that just adorable. The younger man had a scarlet flush staining his cheeks and was squirming in his seat.

The fact that he had asked him back to his place took Severus by surprise. It was a pleasant surprise, true, but one that he hadn't been expecting. Everything was going too smoothly, and he was certain something was bound to happen to ruin it.

He squashed those thoughts immediately. A stunningly beautiful man had just basically asked if he wanted to have sex and he wasn't about to jinx it.

Though it was too much fun, watching him squirm!

After a moment, he took pity on Kitten. He leaned forward again and touched his chin, causing viridian eyes to jerk towards his face. He let his fingers trail along the soft skin of his jaw line. "Yes."

"You really want to?" A hint of insecurity.

"If you will allow it."

Another smile blossomed across his lips. He smiled a lot, Severus noted before taking advantage of their close proximity and pressing his lips to the other man's.

It was a quick kiss, little more than a chaste brushing of their lips, but it sent a fire through his body which settled in his lower extremities. He pulled away almost immediately, before Kitten could even respond, but that quick peck was enough. It left a pleasant taste on his lips, and he swiped his tongue across them to savor it.

Kitten's eyes, which had stayed open through the exchange, watched his tongue flick across his lips with an almost hungry expression.

Severus stood up with a "Shall we," and the other man quickly joined him. They made their way out of the coffee shop.

This walk wasn't as awkward as the first had been. They had come to an understanding, and there wasn't a need for pointless small talk any longer. They walked closer together, their arms brushing, sending little jolts of pleasure through Severus, driving him to distraction.

Kitten was leading the way again, walking steadily through the streets of London, but Severus' lips were tingling and he felt a surge of lust so strong that he couldn't ignore it. As they were passing an alley, Severus grabbed the shorter man and pulled him into the welcoming darkness.

"Wha-" Kitten exclaimed before his lips were once again covered. This wasn't a chaste kiss; Severus thrust his tongue between Kitten's lips. He pressed the younger man to the brick wall of the alley and ground their hips together.

Kitten recovered from his shock with remarkable poise and kissed back with as much abandon. His small hands buried themselves in Severus' hair and held onto him, keeping their lips locked together.

It was a small taste of what they would share once they got to Kitten's apartment, and it wasn't nearly enough.

A catchy song filled the air, at the same time as something vibrated against Severus' hips. He pulled back in shock while Kitten groaned.

"My phone," he explained.

Severus quickly thought back to what he knew of muggles. Most of them nowadays carried around little devices that they talked into, much like a wizard could talk to another through a fire call.

"Don't answer it," he growled and nipped at Kitten's neck.

Kitten gave a soft mewl before protesting. "It's my... It's my mom."

Severus sighed and stepped back, briefly wondering how he could possibly know who it was without answering. He watched as Kitten fished through his jean pocket and pulled out the wailing device. He wanted to smash the offending thing.

"Hello?"

Severus sighed again and clenched his fists while he listened to Kitten chit-chat with his mother.

"Yes, Mom. Yes, Mom. I will, Mom. Love you, too. Bye." He pressed a button and put the phone back in his pocket. "Sorry about that."

"Does she always have such impeccable timing?"

Kitten laughed, a strained sound. "Pretty much. Do you still want to come over?"

Severus raked his gaze over the other's body, saying with no words that yes, he did. "Will we be interrupted again?"

A hand drifted up and rubbed at the back of Kitten's head. "Shouldn't be."

"Then lead the way."


End file.
